By rights, the atmospheric conditions for this story should have been as inhospitable as those of the planet itself. There’s no sign of life here, no people, no hero astronauts. Instead, a bunch of scientists pointing at grainy pictures and discoursing on the element ratios of various lumps of rubble, occasionally grumbling, in the tradition of the nuclear physicists who are constitutionally unable to operate an overhead projector, that they can’t work the damn cursor. The scientists tried to breathe life into it all by talking about ““rock stars’’ and ““rock festivals.''
But the true rock stars - and we do need some - were, of course, the scientists themselves. They became the accidental celebrities, and it’s a good thing, because we needed a little prompting about why we should care about all this. After all, we’d been on Mars 21 years ago, and it wasn’t exactly a where-were-you-when-JFK-was-shot moment. One deadly sign was when we were assured by our science-minded vice president that the expedition would provide information that might shed light on Earth’s own evolution. Wake me when it’s over, Al. (Clinton, by the way, now says he’s a ““Mars junkie.’')
No, none of this by itself would have diverted us from our appointed rounds of ear biting, presidential sex, the stock market and health tips. It was the scientists who did it, a bunch of guys (mostly guys) in polo shirts in Pasadena telling us how ““cool’’ and ““fun’’ everything was. They were so darn happy, jig-dancing and high-fiving and bear-hugging, that they couldn’t contain themselves. And the requisite Letterman wink was nowhere in sight.
If our own children weren’t always riveted by this story, no matter: the scientists were the children, overgrown seventh graders staring wide-eyed at their science project with an unadulterated sense of wonder. Even if we didn’t quite get what they were so excited about, it sucked us into the story. Indeed, the whole imagery of the Mars story was childlike, from the pet rocks Yogi and Barnacle Bill and Scooby-Doo to the ““monster pan’’ and the ““couch,’’ the ““sandbox’’ and the ““imp.’’ The other day they wore 3-D glasses. They were treating Mars’s barren terrain as if it were Pee-wee’s Playhouse. Even the Mattel models of the rover that were selling by the thousands didn’t ruin the party. The lurchy simulations and ““movies’’ looked like ““Toy Story’’ stop-action animation. CNN touted ““the little rover that could.''
The cartoon-character stuff got a bit insufferable after a while, but it served a public-relations purpose. What are you going to call these things? Rock specimen 104.1B? There can be only so many 10-syllable wonders like Alpha Proton X-Ray Spectrometer (““sniffer’’ never really took). But the names weren’t deliberate, media-managed to ““sell’’ the story and tweak NASA’s budget the next time around. The scientists, it turns out, just thought them up, because they’re goofballs. ““They thought it would be cool,’’ a JPL spokesperson explained. And some of them turned out to have a gift of communicating to laymen.
The scientists have, of course, realized that the warm-and-fuzzy way they talked about the science was playing to the public. ““People picture the rover as being alive,’’ says rover driver Brian Cooper. ““I guess it’s normal to anthropomorphize it. People wonder, will we find life behind that rock? Let’s drive over and see it.’’ Never mind that the rover moves even more slowly than the cruise ship in ““Speed 2.''
Despite the lack of the cynical trappings of most media events, not everything was spontaneous. The scientists would gather before each news conference to plan what they were going to say. ““We were told how to hold our hands on television,’’ Cooper says. ““I bought all new clothes.’’ He points to his new Dockers. ““Normally, I’d wear jeans and a T shirt.’’ And there were moments of manipulation: project scientist Matt Golombek, he of the shining eyes and 500-watt grin, kicked a NEWSWEEK reporter out of a behind-the-scenes tour of the mission, saying he didn’t want her to be there if something went wrong. ““We don’t want anything to be misinterpreted.''
Part of the childlike demeanor of the scientists comes from the fact that many of them are young, a new breed without the pocket protectors and bow ties. Take Steve Stolper, who’s 28 and looks much younger. ““All the things that people take for granted, like going to dinner with friends, like even having friends, we here have given up. Our friends and family are each other and this machine we’ve built.’’ The difference between Stolper and his absent-minded predecessors? He doesn’t have a life, but at least he knows he doesn’t.
The master of ceremonies for the Mars show is, as usual, CNN, which tripled its normal ratings and displayed overabundant peppiness. The scientists’ elation was more convincing, and so infectious that Golombek could get away with lines like ““My heart soars… there’s layering in some rocks!’’ He shakes his head in amazement. ““We’ve got to go see those!’’ And if he says so, yeah, sure, great. We’ll come along and look at the rocks.
